


That Would Be Enough

by jack_hunter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Autistic Jack Kline, Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent, Dean Winchester is Jack Kline's Parent, Fluff, Gen, Hamilton References, Jack Kline Gets a Hug, Jack has a Zanna, Light Angst, No Spoilers, Piano, Sam Winchester is Jack Kline's Parent, You can pry this headcanon from my cold dead hands!!, Zanna (Supernatural), this is just cute fluff, very light angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:54:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27794932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jack_hunter/pseuds/jack_hunter
Summary: Jack went back to the beginning of the melody, tapping the notes in the familiar order. From next to him, a sweet and chirpy voice sung along. “Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf,” it said, and Jack copied as he repeated the tune with his other hand a little further down the screen, “and again… un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf.” Jack played each key, but instead of following the written notes along the top of the app, he deviated just a bit to change the melody at the end. A hand came into his field of vision, small with rounded white nails lightly tapping when the hand pressed the correct notes.--Jack has a friend, someone he really needs.
Relationships: Castiel & Jack Kline & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Jack Kline & Sam Winchester
Kudos: 38





	That Would Be Enough

**Author's Note:**

> This is just some fluff I decided to write because god dammit Jack needs a hug and he needs a mother and he needs a friend! Also, Jack is autistic and you can pry that headcanon from my cold, dead hands! Enjoy!

Jack sat in his bed, tablet in hand, screen a harsh blue against the soft yellow of his bedside lamp. He should have been asleep hours ago, having returned from a hunt with his fathers not too long before that, but there was something he had to do first. Something he did every night. Foregoing his headphones since his hair was still damp from his shower, quiet notes echoed in the room with each tap on the screen. The melody itself was simple, nothing more than a basic tune, but the familiar black and white keys turned green with each press. The piano was calming, something he could do where it didn’t matter if he messed up, and the app on the tablet Sam had bought him meant he could practice whenever he wanted. 

Jack went back to the beginning of the melody, tapping the notes in the familiar order. From next to him, a sweet and chirpy voice sung along. “ _Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf,_ ” it said, and Jack copied as he repeated the tune with his other hand a little further down the screen, “and again… _un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf_.” Jack played each key, but instead of following the written notes along the top of the app, he deviated just a bit to change the melody at the end. A hand came into his field of vision, small with rounded white nails lightly tapping when the hand pressed the correct notes. 

“ _Sept, huit, neuf_ ,” the voice sung, this time in the correct tune. Jack didn’t copy; he played his version again, “ _sept, huit, neuf_ ,” the hand played once more, and once again, Jack didn’t copy. 

“ _One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine_ ,” the two sang together. The young boy looked up to his left and smiled brightly, earning the same smile from the woman perched next to him. With a ruffle of his hair, the woman got up from the bed, her long, electric blue gown falling to her ankles. It was like something out of the 1800s, puffy with three-quarter length sleeves that ended in ruffles and a square neckline hidden by a pleated sheer fabric crossed over the front. Her face was round, skin was fair - pale almost, as if she had rarely seen the run - and she had long hair that rivalled Castiel’s in its dark shade tied back into a low ponytail. Earrings that looked like little teardrops in a matching shade of blue to her gown dangled from her ears. 

“You’re doing very well, Jack, I think your father will be impressed,” the woman said, taking the tablet from his hands and switching the screen off before placing it on the bedside table, “Now, time for bed, sweetie.” Jack shimmied under his blanket until he was lying down properly, head against the pillow and comforter pulled right up to his chin. The woman began to gently tuck the sheets in around him, fluffing the pillow lightly like Castiel normally would for him. 

“I’m hoping I’ll be good enough to play something for Dean on his birthday,” Jack replied as the woman sat on the edge of the bed. One of her hands wrapped itself around his own, soft and warm. 

“I think he would love that,” she told him, “we can look up some of his favourite songs and see if we can find chords for them online.” Her words made Jack’s smile even brighter. 

Three knocks sounded on the door before it slowly opened. As Jack pushed himself to sit up, Sam stuck his head around the door and looked around the room, brow furrowing just a bit as he walked inside. 

“Who were you talking to, buddy?” the hunter asked. He was in his pyjamas, a small glass of water in his giant hands. Jack bit his lip. 

“Oh, no one,” he lied, trying not to glance at his friend. Sam didn’t seem to notice her at all. Though not convinced, Sam shrugged and shuffled over to the bed, putting his glass down just long enough that he could lean down and wrap his arms around Jack. The kid gripped on tightly, burying his face in Sam’s shoulder until the hunter had to pull away because his back started to protest. 

“You need to get some sleep,” Sam told him, “you’re meant to be going out with Dean and Cas to get new sneakers tomorrow.”

“But I like my sneakers,” Jack protested. He liked the velcro ones; laces were too difficult. 

“Yes, but they have holes in the sides. You can’t hunt in shoes with holes in them,” Sam stated, leaving no room for argument. He pressed a kiss to Jack’s forehead and said goodnight, leaving the lamp on as he grabbed his glass and left the room, closing the door behind him. Jack slumped back down in his bed. 

His friend rolled her eyes and tucked the kid back in, hand running through his short hair. “He’s really proud of you, y’know,” she said, “they all are.”

“I feel like I’m always letting them down,” Jack admitted, holding his hands up and turning them back and forth in the air as if examining every crease and joint, “I’ve got all this power and I can barely use it right. I keep messing up. How can they be proud of me?”

“They’re proud because you are their son,” was the lady’s blunt reply. Shuffling a little closer, the woman reached for both of Jack’s hands and held them in her own. In an instant, it was as if all the anxiety inside of him just… faded away, instead replaced by a warmth he hadn’t felt since he was still being carried by his mother. 

“Look at where you are, Jack,” she continued, “look at where you started! The fact that you’re alive is a miracle,” her hand cupped his cheek, thumb gently stroking under his eye, “just stay alive; that would be enough.” Jack leaned into her touch. She seemed to glow in the lamplight, the reflection against her brown eyes made them seem a golden colour instead, like his own whenever he used his powers. 

“Your fathers don't pretend to know the challenges you're facing,” she admitted with a sad shake of her head, glancing away, “the worlds you keep erasing and creating in your mind, but they’re not afraid; they know who their son is. So long as you come home at the end of the day that would be enough.” 

The woman leaned forwards and pressed a gentle kiss to Jack’s hairline before she got up from the bed, switched off the lamp and walked to the door. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” she said to him. 

“Night,” came Jack’s reply, half-interrupted by a yawn. The woman closed the door behind her as she left. 

Out in the hallway, once the bedroom door had closed with a click, the woman sighed and rested her forehead against the bronze number ‘22’. “Eliza Hamilton, huh?” Came a familiar voice, and when she looked to her right, Sam was standing there waiting. 

“A _Zanna_ takes the form of whatever our child needs,” Eliza replied, “Jack apparently likes _Hamilton_.”

“Who doesn’t?” Sam laughed, “but there’s more to it, isn’t there?” Eliza bowed her head, hands smoothing down her gown. Something heavy, a hand, came to rest on her shoulder, making her look back up at the giant man. “It’s good that he has you to turn to; sometimes we all just need a mom around,” he nodded his head towards Jack’s door, “some more than others.” Sam patted her shoulder twice before turning and heading back to his room, bidding Eliza goodnight. 

Alone in the hallway again, Eliza sent a little bit of her magic out to encompass the sleeping inhabitants of the Bunker, ensuring sweet dreams for the night. It wasn’t just Jack she was there to take care of. 


End file.
